Just a Juvenile Game
by thepinkunicorn
Summary: "Draco...stared into his palm, where Harry Potter had been etched crudely in black ink...Draco sighed in resignation as he forced himself to accept the idea of asking Potter out. He was going to have to do it whether he liked it or not. And he definitely did not." After Draco plays a game of ZAP with Pansy, he realizes he has to ask Harry out. Nothing goes according to plan. Drarry
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I wish I did, because then I would be the creative genius that is J.K. Rowling, but I don't, and I hate myself every day because of it.**

_Gods. Why did I ever let them talk me into this?_ Draco thought angrily as he stared into his palm, where _Harry Potter_ had been etched crudely in black ink. He was going to _kill_ Pansy for this. The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and Draco quickly closed his fist, so no one could see the two little words that were burning a hole into his hand.

"Hey. You ready to go?" Blaise asked, hitting Draco on the shoulder with his messenger bad, a malicious smirk highly evident on his face.

Draco just glared at the Slytherin as he swung his own bag over his shoulder and stomped out the door towards the Great Hall.

"I'm going to kill Pansy for this," he growled out through clenched teeth, as the dark-skinned Italian finally caught up to him.

Blaise chuckled. "You didn't have to look."

"'Look?' I didn't have to _look_?!" Draco practically screeched. "With that _thing_ burning a hole into my hand all period? Telling me not to look is like me telling you not to sleep around. Or telling Pansy to stop talking."

Draco was furious. He was seriously regretting getting involved in such a juvenile game. But his pride had been challenged, and he wasn't one to back down easily. When Pansy had suggested they play ZAP, Draco had thought it would be an easy win.

He had nerves of steel, and his self-control was the best of any of the Slytherins. But that _name_ had been making him lose focus. He couldn't concentrate with the thought of the two little words that were scratched into his skin like a tattoo.

It dragged his eyes downward. His fingers itched to open. Curiosity had indeed killed the cat, and Draco was going to pay for it.

As he slumped down next to Crabbe at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, his eyes couldn't help but flicker towards the Gryffindor table. There was the Boy Wonder. The Golden Child. The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Draco.

There was the boy he was going to have to ask out as soon as lunch was over. If only he could skip Potions class. If only the game wasn't enchanted. But the spell Pansy had placed on him when he had started this stupid game wouldn't let him back out. If he tried, it was promised to do much worse damage than would ever befall him from asking out the glorious Harry Potter. Not to mention Snape would probably have his balls on a platter if he even thought about skipping one of his classes.

Draco sneered.

"I'm guessing you looked?" a high-pitched voice giggled in the seat next to him.

Draco just ignored the girlish voice, and the girl whom it belonged to, and instead focused on slamming a pile of mashed potatoes onto his plate. He ate in silence, willing the coil in his stomach to untwist so he could eat something without vomiting.

It wouldn't do to go the rest of his classes without food, especially since he had the revolting task ahead of him. Draco sighed in resignation as he forced himself to accept the idea of asking Potter out. He was going to have to do it whether he liked it or not.

And he definitely did not.

* * *

Draco swore he could hear each second passing by, thundering in his head, counting down the time until he would have to go to class and publicly humiliate himself. Although he wanted to prolong that moment as long as possible, he couldn't stay seated at the Slytherin table for much longer. He needed out.

He quickly stood up and grabbed his books, and without saying a word to anyone, made his way out of the Great Hall, the sound of Pansy's high-pitched screech echoing after him. He ignored the irritating witch once again and kept walking; hoping the long walk down to the dungeons would calm his nerves.

Every step he took made the knot in his stomach pull tighter and tighter, until he thought vomiting would be an excellent option.

But then he was there, standing in the corridor outside the Potion's room, the candlelight doing nothing to illuminate the dank stone hallway. A few early-comers were there, and to his surprise, Potter was among them. Draco hadn't seen him leave the Great Hall. Maybe he could complete his horrific task more discreetly than he had previously hoped.

Before he lost any nerve he currently had, he called out, "Hey! Potter! Come here," and nodded his head in the messy-haired wizard's general direction.

The Gryffindor turned to look at Draco, suspicion weighing heavily on his face. That was no surprise. Thankfully, however, Potter did as he was told and approached Draco warily.

"Try anything, Malfoy, and I'll hex you into next week," Potter threatened.

Draco chuckled. "Careful, Potter. Don't make promises you can't keep."

Potter ignored him, and continued on bluntly. "What do you want?"

"Touchy, touchy. Can't we exchange pleasantries, first?" Draco wasn't about to come right out and say it. He wanted to make Potter squirm, first. He wanted to see the Boy Wonder sweat in anticipation, and shift uncomfortably under Draco's gaze. He wanted to – "Go out with me." Draco was going to _murder_ Pansy for that spell!

Potter's expression went immediately from nervous trepidation to completely shell-shocked and Draco couldn't help but empathize. How the hell had he let the spell take control over him?! Damn that bloody enchantment!

"_What_ did you just say?" Potter asked slowly, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Draco was the one to shift uncomfortably, as Potter stared at him in incredulous disbelief.

"You heard me, Potter. I knew you were stupid, but I didn't know it affected your hearing as well."

Potter just continued to stand there, staring at Draco with deep green eyes that wouldn't let him look away. _Bloody, stupid, moronic _–

"Yes." _idiotic, juvenile… wait, what?_

"What did you just say?" Potter's lips twitched at the corners, and his eyes held a mischievous twinkle that Draco couldn't identify. "I _said_, yes I'll go out with you."

Draco could only stare at the black-haired boy in front of him.

_What the bloody hell?_

**A/N: Hey, guys. So I know I've been MIA for about 1-2 years? I can't believe it's been that long, but I've been so busy with school. Not to mention I think all of my past stories suck and I am too lazy to edit them. So, since I do realize fanfiction is a good creative outlet for me, I've decided to start back up again with some new stories. I will eventually get around to my old stories, but at the moment, I'm too frustrated with them to try. But here is a Drarry that I really like. It is a play off my old Drarry story, but this one is 1,000x better. So I hope you like it, and please review. It would mean the world to me. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It kills me to say so, but I don't.**

Draco couldn't move. He couldn't think beyond the simple incoherent thought that things had gone wrong, so terribly wrong. Potter was never supposed to have said _yes_! He was supposed to have said no, walked away, and left Draco humiliated with his dignity shattered beyond recognition. Never, ever, was he supposed to have said _yes_!

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Draco heard Potter say, but he couldn't quite comprehend the words. He sounded like he was a thousand miles away; a distant echo that Draco couldn't quite hear. And then he was gone, and all Draco could see was a gray brick wall clouding his vision.

His thoughts were still a blur, and he couldn't quite pinpoint an exact idea that would give him some clue as to how to proceed. Somehow, he was able to shake himself out of the daze the shock of Potter's acceptance had put him in, and he was able to swivel his head around, eyes searching for the mop of jet-black hair that would inform him of Potter's exact location.

When finally his eyes seemed to rest on the rat's nest, Draco was able to see that Potter had rejoined his friends – Granger and the Weasel – who were standing in the crowd of seventh years that had begun to form in front of Snape's classroom door. Class was almost ready to start, but Draco needed more information. He needed to get a grip and handle the situation.

"What do you _mean_, 'yes?!'" Draco shouted, directing his voice at Potter, who only glanced up to smirk in amusement at him. People were starting to stare at Draco, who had totally lost all semblance of his sanity, and was starting to shake in anger. He needed to know why Potter was doing this to him. Why the bloody hell was Potter _doing this to him_?

"Potter!" Draco shouted again, and by then, almost every person in the corridor was staring at him in avid curiosity. Some of the girls were even _giggling_ at him. The only people not paying any attention to the spectacle were the Golden Trio. The perfect brats.

Draco was about to shout again, but his voice died in his throat as the door to Snape's room swept open and hit the wall with a dull thud. Snape's deep, monotone voice swept across the crowd like a chilled breeze. "Come in."

And with that, Draco lost his chance to get any more information from Potter as the crowd of seventh years surged through the door, no one wanting to be the last in the irritable Potion Master's classroom. Draco stayed where he was for a few moments, trying to regain his self-control. It wouldn't do any good to go into Snape's class with a temper rivaling that of Filch.

After a few deep breaths, however, and a reassurance that things would get better, Potter was only joking, you'll see Draco, he was ready to step inside the fumes of gaseous odors that was the Potions classroom.

It was a slow class. Snape was having them continue brewing Sleeping Draughts, giving some of the students that had failed drastically last class a chance to redeem themselves. Draco had already managed to concoct his perfectly the past lesson, so he had nothing to do but stare in amusement at his fellow Slytherins, who were sweating over their cauldrons in various stages of stressful nervousness.

Every so often, Draco would glance across the room to see that Potter and Weasley were in the same stressful mode that seemed to have taken over everyone in the room. He and Granger seemed to be the only two that had already finished their potion. No surprise there.

So the only thing that Draco had to occupy his mind with was the memory of the incident before class. He still couldn't wrap his mind around what had happened. Potter couldn't have said _yes_. It just wasn't possible. They had been fighting since they were first years. Granted, after the war, things had gotten better in the ways of old prejudices, but the two still weren't _friends_. There was no way in hell Potter had agreed to go out with him.

Yet, Draco knew he hadn't misheard him. There was just no explanation. He needed answers. The more he thought about it, the more worked up he got, until his fists were starting to shake in frustration, and Blaise was starting to glance at him in concern.

Draco tried to get his mind under control again, and just when he thought he had regained his self-control, a piece of paper was slipped onto the table in front of him. Draco snapped his head up to see Potter snake his way back to his table.

_What the bloody hell?! _Draco snatched the note off the table before anyone else could read it, and glanced down surreptitiously to read Potter's chicken scrawl.

_Pick me up at noon._

Draco almost had a conniption.

* * *

_Fuck this game. Fuck Pansy. Fuck Potter. Fuck my life. Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ Draco thought as he paced the length of his room, trying to get his thoughts under control.

It was Saturday, a day Draco usually reserved for relaxation and peace and quiet from the chaotic mess that was the rest of the student body, but instead, he was being forced to pick Potter up to go to Hogsmeade for their 'date.'

He groaned, and turned to fall onto his bed in a heap, not caring about his new clothes that were probably becoming wrinkled. He wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep, and forget everything that had happened in the past week, but the chicken scrawl on his palm ensured he would do no such thing. No, the enchantment that had forced him into this mess wouldn't let him back out. Not without a major price, anyway.

So before he could talk himself out of it, Draco hauled himself up, took a glance in the mirror to make sure he looked okay, and swept out of his room without another thought. He would get this day over with fast, and without hassle.

But when Draco got to the Entrance Hall at precisely 12:00, and saw that Potter was nowhere to be found, he knew the day was off to an unpleasant start. Potter expected him to pick him up at Gryffindor Tower, the unforgiving bastard. So Draco made the slow descent upwards, towards the North Tower, praying none of the other Slytherins saw his ascension into shame.

It was a long, torturous walk up, and with every step, Draco found himself becoming more and more open to the idea of giving himself up to whatever punishment the enchantment would inflict on him for giving up his mission. Just when he was about to give up, and head back down to the dungeon for a peaceful Potter-free nap, he arrived at the portrait that led to the Gryffindor common room.

The Fat Lady in the painting eyed him suspiciously, and Draco was worried he would have to wait a while before Potter decided to show, but suddenly the portrait swung open, revealing the Golden Trio in all their annoying glory. He groaned inwardly, realizing of course Potter would bring his _friends_ along. It was no use. Draco was going to have to resign himself to a day of hell with the three people he least wanted to be around.

But then a hopeful thought struck him. Maybe this was all a joke. Maybe Potter had done all of this in jest, and he would turn to Draco in a moment and tell him that he could go back to whatever he had planned for the day.

That hopeful thought was severely crushed, however, when Potter turned to look at him and said, "Ready to go?"

**A/N: Ugh. You guys all know the torture that is writer's block, right? The feeling where you can't think of a word, but it's on the tip of your tongue? Except you feel that way with **_**every single damn thing you write**_**? Yeah. That's how I felt throughout this whole chapter. But I got through it, and I hope you like it. Please pop me a review to keep me motivated. I would be much obliged. Also – I know my facts are a bit screwed up with them being in seventh year and everything, but I don't care. It's AU, so don't harass me about it, please. I know what I'm doing.**


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